You raise me upfrom the second we met
by viflow
Summary: 'Come on, that's enough," The boy demands, fixing him with an almost cocky smile. Arthur's head snaps up, "What!" he asks with bafflement. He is closing the distance between them, studying the boy with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. He skips to a halt within an arm reach from the boy. "You've had your fun, my friend." the boy says, staring intently at Arthur.


''Hey,'' Arthur turns and jerks his head so fast toward the voice that he's pretty sure he almost cricked his neck.

His eyes rake over the tall, skinny boy in pleasant clothes. Then they take in the funny big ears sticking out from messy black hair, high cheekbones taut against pale skin, full, plump mouth drawn into a cheeky smile and blue eyes taunting him from afar.

And Arthur is very grateful for the poker face that comes from years of practice at court banquets, feasts and councils because the little twist in his belly and a funny jerk of his heart catches him of guard. _What the hell was that?_

''Come on, that's enough," The boy demands, fixing him with an almost cocky smile.

Arthur's head snaps up, _"What?!"_ he asks with bafflement.

He is closing the distance between them, studying the boy with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. He skips to a halt within an arm reach from the boy.

"You've had your fun, my friend." The boy says, staring intently at Arthur with the most ridiculously blue and clearest eyes Arthur has ever seen. It takes him a moment to realize his heart is racing in his ears, making his palms moist. _Was the weather so hot before? Damn, but it was getting hot._

Trying to snap himself out of this strange sensation, Arthur reminds himself that he is the Prince and has a reputation to hold on to. Though, he has no clue why he lowers himself to get into a hassle with a commoner. All he has to do is raise his finger and the cheeky, impudent bastard would be arrested by the guards. But for a reason he cannot for the life of him identify, he steps closer.

"Do I know you?" Arthur asks, and though the jittering in his stomach grew stronger, he is trying very hard to keep his voice cool and light.

"Uhm, I'm Merlin," the boy says, reaching out his hand.

"So I don't know you." Arthur replies.

"No." Merlin answers with a frown.

"Yet… you called me friend." Arthur says teasing.

"That was my mistake," the boy, Merlin, replies with a bit of irony and levels Arthur with a sassy, arrogant stare.

"Yes, I think so," Arthur says in answer to that, injecting a little more haughtiness into his voice than usual.

"Yeah," Merlin agrees wryly, his gaze holding Arthur's for the blow what follows, "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." Then he turns to walk away.

For a moment Arthur is too stunned to assemble a reply, because apart from Morgana ( who is kind of a family) nobody speaks to him like this. A strong mix of amusement, anger and confusion are washing through him in quick succession, and he hears himself say,

"Nor I one who could be so stupid," because for some unfathomable reason, he just can't bear the thought letting Merlin go away like this.

It's not a weird thing, or a contrived thing, it just principle. Or whatever. He is the prince; he can't just let him get away with his insolence like this. _Can he now?_

Merlin stops in his track and taking his time, slowly turns back and looks at Arthur with open defiance, his chin tipped up.

So Arthur decides, you know. Just to mess with him a bit. "Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?"

"No." Merlin answers in a bored voice.

"Would you like me to help you?" Arthur asks, sickly pleasant.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Merlin says with an unimpressed look on his face after giving Arthur one quick glance over.

''Why?'' Arthur asks with a short disbelieving laugh, ''What you gonna do to me?''

''You have no idea.'' Merlin says with a hint of ridiculous darkness slipping into his voice.

Amused, his interest piqued Arthur opens his arms invitingly. ''Be my guest. Come on. Come on. Come oooon'' he drawls, goading Merlin on with a grin, waving his hand slightly, as much for the benefit of his audience as for his own ego. And to his utter delight, foolishly brave, idiotic Merlin, after hesitating for only a moment, actually _does take_ a swing at him.

Without any effort it takes Arthur but one sparse, controlled movement to grab Merlin's arm and twist it behind his back. He presses his body into Merlin's back and fights back a satisfied grin at the startled, disgruntled gasps Merlin makes against him.

"I'll have you thrown in jail for that," Arthur says slowly with vengeful satisfaction, leaning closer into Merlin.

"Who do you think you are? The King?" Merlin spits.

He jerks in Arthur's hands, involuntarily pressing his back and shoulders against Arthur's chest, his hips bucking into Arthur's front, his smell hits Arthur's nose and punches through his defensive walls.

Arthur is appalled how weirdly good it feels.

And he's beginning to be rather horrified at himself when a startling shiver goes up his back from the contact. Like wildfire, awareness spreads through Arthur until it engulfs him and leaves him adrift to his surroundings. All of a sudden, the feel and scent of Merlin is the only thing he can focus on. It's as if the rest of the world falls away and they are left alone, just the two of them.

He is caught in the current of an odd, unfamiliar energy that humming in the space between their bodies. Suddenly Arthur's chest feels tight, his breath shudders out of his body as he finds himself in need of more oxygen. His heart picking up speed, adrenaline thrumming in his veins with the grappling need to close the space entirely between their bodies.

He is fighting, _hard_ , the sudden urge to pull Merlin tighter against his too hot body until they are pressed together into one and burry his face in Merlin's neck to breathe him in again. Arthur is shocked and he feels terrified from this inexplicable, sudden, crazy want. His heart is beating double-time inside his chest, so loud that he is sure Merlin can hear and feel it.

And that... _that_ possibility is mortifying enough to break through and yank Arthur out of this strange haze, and make him to grab onto the only solid thing in his hands: Merlin's arm. His fingers curl around it tighter, he is gripping it harder while he breathes deeply, trying to pull himself together.

Schooling his stare into something more wrathful, he jerks once more on Merlin's arm, and if he strangely finds it hard to take pleasure in Merlin's helpless whine, well...that's absolutely beside the point.

Scowling at Merlin fiercely, more for the show of his minions than because he really feels like that, "No. I'm his son. Arthur," he answers Merlin's question through the still present pounding in his ears.

Then he just stands there perplexed for a long moment at the sudden hitch in his heart, watching as Merlin is dragged away to the dungeon by the palace guards. For another reason entirely, and not one he can identify either, he can't find satisfaction, not the slightest thrill of joy in that.


End file.
